Ain't Nothing To It, Real One Aint Nothing To It, Boss

Trish* (Half done)

Winston O'Neal pulled up in front of my building, causing a stir as everyone's eyes rested on his snow-white Maybach. It's gleamed underneath the early morning sun The only person to ever show up in the neighborhood in a whip this nice was one of the Mackenzie's or their lieutenants. My cheeks heated up at the thought of being part of the neighborhood gossip; I spent my entire life wanting to be noticed and now that it was my time I couldn't stand the thought of the scrutiny, especially not after everything Ángel put me through. While I was a jittery mess, Winston was the picture of calm. He killed the engine and relaxed in his seat, admiring me.

"I had fun," I said, and it was the truth.

My first impression of Winston was the same one I had to Angel: way too out of my league. He held out his hand to me, a large one with a class ring from Yale, and all I had to give him was my clammy one. I tripped over my one syllable name, which he thought was cute because according to him, shyness was a rare trait in 2018. That was when the comparisons stopped and I relaxed, allowing myself to become better acquainted with Winston, who was nothing like Ángel. Our conversations were deep, way too deep for strobe lights and loud music, so we relocated to a cozy diner down the block where we talked about everything under the sun until it eventually made its appearance. Now I was sitting in front of my building, feeling my stomach turn to knots at the strong surge of déjà vu in the air.

"I had a wonderful time as well," Winston said, turning on his megawatt smile. "How does dinner next Friday sound?"

At the sound of those words, I felt my body grow cold. Everything happened in slow motion. Jamar sat there, smiling at me and the possibility of us going out on a date together and then he was gone. Gone because of me. My throat grew tight at the blood...there was so much blood...and then there was Nestor, smiling at me and letting me know that anyone who ever tried to get close to me would meet the same fate.

"Trish?" Winston said, reaching out for me and wincing when I slapped his hand away. "Trish, what's the matter?"

"Stay away from me!" I shouted as tears sprang from my eyes. "Just stay away from me if you know what's good for you!"

I jumped out of the car and ran up the walkway, bawling my eyes out as the idea of another man being killed because of my selfishness. There was that same group of old women sitting on the bench, watching me like hawks. I found it crazy how these old bitches spent their entire lives sitting on the bench talking shit about people's lives instead of living their own. Their eyes did a thorough onceover of me, starting at my heels, disheveled clothes, and ruined makeup.

"That girl is always up to something," I heard Ms. Ann say to her sister, Deidre, and best friend, Carlotta. "Tina was the same way before she met Emory. You remember all them cars she used to come through in? She luck Trish ended up with those nice eyes like Emory or else she probably wouldn't know who the father of that girl was. I'm not even convinced. She always been a strange little something, talking to herself and whatnot."

I stopped in my tracks and turned around with deliberate steps. "Excuse me?"

Ann stopped talking and three women looked at me like I was crazy.

"You need to take yourself in the building," Deidre said, shooing me like I was a pest and not their topic of choice for the afternoon. "Looking like you been rode hard and left to dry."

"Maybe if someone rode you old bitches you would have something better to do than sit out here talking shit about everyone," I barked, my words slicing the quiet air and ceasing all activities in the square. "I know you aren't going to sit there and talk shit about me and my mother then play dumb when I call you out on it!"